Chapter Sixty One.
After Many Days.
“She’s better, Trethick, much better,” said Uncle Paul. “Poor child! I thought it was going to be a case of madness. But sit down, man, I’ve just got a fresh batch of the old cheroots.”
Geoffrey seated himself in the summer-house opposite to the old gentleman, with the soft sea-breeze blowing in at the open window; and for a time they smoked in silence.
“Mrs Mullion is going away, Trethick,” said the old man at last.
“Going away?”
“Yes; it will be better for Madge. Let them go somewhere to a distance. The poor girl wants change, and she’ll never be happy here.”
“No,” said Geoffrey, “I suppose not. Then you go with them?”
“I? No, my lad, I seem to be so used to this house that I don’t want to make a change. I can’t live much longer, Trethick, and I thought, perhaps, you would come back to the old place. There’ll be plenty of room for both of us, and we can smoke and quarrel in the old style.”
Geoffrey shook his head.